Tell Me
by SeaSpree
Summary: Who was Sam? What did he look like? What was his personality? Did he love Celaena? Did he love her more than I love Celaena? Those are the questions that haunt Dorian. Questions that he seeks answers to... through Celaena. [Takes Place During Throne of Glass — Dorian and Celaena are still together]


"Back already?" Celaena teased, looking up from her book to see Dorian, slipping gracefully through her bedroom doorway and into her bedroom.

"I couldn't stay away. Plus, the court ladies all bore me."

"Naturally. Assassins like me take all the charm." Celaena stood and crossed the threshold toward Dorian's outstretched arms.

"I've missed you," he murmured as he held her. The assassin laughed, a clear, musical sound.

"It's only been an hour," she chided. Dorian protested. "But alright. I missed you, too. Reading about romances isn't nearly the same as being in one."

Dorian gently led Celaena to the bed and the two collapsed onto the bed.

"Tell me more," he said, looking up at the ceiling.

"More about what?" Celaena had propped her head up on an elbow and looked at him with questioning eyes.

"Who. Tell me more about Sam."

"Jealous?" She asked suggestively, but Dorian didn't miss the sadness under that single word.

"Just tell me. What he looked like, what he was like…" he trailed off. Dorian wasn't quite sure _why_ he was inquiring about Sam. Perhaps he wanted to see if his love for Celaena matched or… or surpassed his.

Dorian looked back at Celaena to see that she had an eyebrow cocked up.

"You want to know what he looked like." The sadness was strangely gone, replaced, instead, with amusement.

"Yeah," Dorian breathed.

And then, the most unexpected thing happened. Celaena bolted up from the bed so fast that it was a blur of the red dress she was wearing and her golden-blonde hair. There was a loud, blatant sound, and Dorian quickly sat up.

"I'm sorry. Are you al—" he stopped. Because although there were one or two tears on the assassin's face, they weren't from crying, not at all. She was laughing. Laughing so hard that the entire bed shook and tears ran freely down her face.

"I'm sorry," the prince said again, "but am I missing something here?" When at last the worst of the laughing had passed (Dorian was surprised no servants came running to see what the matter was) and Celaena was only plagued by some hiccups, she spoke.

"You've met him before," she said, remnants of the laugh still left on her face. Even with tears on her face, she looked beautiful.

"I have…?" Celaena looked into his eyes, her eyes happy with the memory, but sad with the past. And then she turned her face away.

"It was at a party over a year ago. You came down the staircase with a few other men. You and the others all had black masks covering your face so that only your eyes showed." She looked up again, to see if Dorian could remember. He couldn't. He'd snuck out to so many parties and balls that year. "Your eyes were sapphire. And well, I saw you. And you saw me. You asked for a dance and for my name."

"Wind. Rain. Bone. Dust." Dorian was taken to the depths of a lost memory. He'd dragged Chaol out of bed at two o'clock in the morning to go to the Harvest Moon party. Chaol had grumbled all the way there that it was "inappropriate" and "dangerous". "Life-threatening" and "risky", as if Dorian hadn't known that. But he had loved to get out of the forbidding glass castle, to forget about being crown prince of Adarlan for a few hours. To dance with a girl and enjoy life.

"That was… that was you?" Dorian whispered, not quite believing. Celaena Sardothien had been at that party. And if she'd known who he was back then, she probably would've slit his throat right then and there.

The assassin sitting across from him nodded. "Do you remember now?" And he did. Dorian remember every single detail of that party now. He'd just asked the dancing girl—Celaena—when another man stepped in between them. And oh, he was very handsome. Just as handsome as Dorian. Maybe even _more_ , but the crown prince really didn't want to admit that.

" _She's spoken for," he growled. His dark brown eyes pierced Dorian's sapphire ones, and he was surprised at his protectiveness of the girl, though they didn't seem to be together._

" _My mistake," Dorian said, although he winked at the Melisande girl before he turned away. He wasn't sure he would be able to find another girl as beautiful as her._

" _What in hell was that for?" Dorian stopped. What a prince he was, listening into other people's private conversations! Yet he edged closer to the two, trying to hear them above the party._

" _You're drunk. And he knew it, too." The man stepped closer to the girl, so that their chests nearly brushed together. Dorian knew she was drunk. But he hadn't planned on doing anything, especially with Chaol with him. Chaol would've put him down before he even knew he was searching for a bed._

" _So?" Someone crashed into her, and the Melisande dancer nearly went down, but the man caught her._

" _You'll thank me in the morning."_

" _Just because we're working together doesn't mean I'm suddenly incapable of handling myself." Working together? On_ what _? Party decorations? Dorian laughed, the sound mixing in with the party._

" _Let me take you home"_

" _No. I don't need an escort. I'll go home when I feel like it." And then she slipped out of the man's hands like an eel, quick, yet graceful. "Besides, don't you have Lysandra or someone equally for hire to be with?" The man's jaw tightened and Dorian saw hurt flash across his eyes._

" _I don't want to be with Lysandra or anyone else for hire. And you're a damned fool for not seeing it." The man reached for the girl's hand again. Dorian knew he should step away, pretend he was never listening in the first place. But his feet seemed glued to the spot, listening like a damned stalker to a lover's quarrel or something of the sort._

" _I am what I am, and I don't particularly care what you think of me." She shook of his grip again._

" _Well, I care what you think of me. I care enough that I stayed at this disgusting party just for you. And I care enough that I'd attend a few thousand more like it so I can spend a few hours with you when you aren't looking at me like I'm not worth the dirt beneath your shoes." Unrequited love. And in all of his princely life, that was one thing that had never happened to him. He didn't, couldn't, understand the pain the man's words held._

" _We have enough going on with Doneval. I don't need to be fighting with you. Can't we just… try to enjoy ourselves right now?_

" _If you want to dance with that man, then go ahead." Dorian felt a prickle of annoyance. He was the crown prince of Adarlan! Practically all of Erilea now, as his father liked to boast. He was not a random toss-away._

" _It's not about that."_

" _Then tell me what it's about."_

" _Look, I_ — _Sam, I don't know how to be your friend yet. I don't know if I know how to be anyone's friend. And… Can we just talk about this tomorrow?" Sam shook his head slowly, but it looked like he was smiling as well._

" _Sure. If you can remember anything tomorrow. Go have fun. We'll talk in the morning." He stepped closer, but stopped and squeezed her shoulder instead before disappearing into the crowd._

"That… that was him?" Dorian breathed. Celaena nodded sadly, her eyes distant.

"So now you know." But Dorian wasn't sure if he did. He had even more questions now than before. _How did you become lovers if you acted like you hated him? Why were you working together? For what? What does Doneval have to do with anything?_

And the biggest question of all:

 _What happened?_


End file.
